


the warden.

by discodancing



Series: the jailbird. [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Author is tired, Awesamdude Needs a Raise, Creative Liberties Were Definitely Taken, DNF is only mentioned, Dream is annoying, Gen, Not RPF - only SMP characters, Prison, semi-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29597178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discodancing/pseuds/discodancing
Summary: the warden is good at his job. but he is also a good man, and good men have empathy.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sam | Awesamdude, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), NOT RPF!
Series: the jailbird. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174445
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	the warden.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! welcome to my very first dsmp fic. a few notes to start this off!! 
> 
> —THIS IS NOT RPF! since the ao3 tagging system for dream smp is a little bit scuffed, some of the character tags have RPF included in them. just know that this is based entirely in the dream smp universe and utilizes only the characters that exist within it, not the real life people who portray them. 
> 
> —this is part of a five or six part series entitled ‘the jailbird,’ and each piece will focus on a different relationship of dream’s during his time in the prison. the parts, IN ORDER, will be as follows:  
> THE WARDEN - Awesamdude  
> THE LOVER - GeorgeNotFound  
> THE SOLDIER - Sapnap  
> THE INFORMANT - Karl  
> THE GHOSTS - Schlatt, Wilbur.  
> THE SCORNED - Tommy
> 
> finally, enjoy!

The warden only looks after a single prisoner. He looks after a man obsessed with the passing of time, who spends his days staring aimlessly at a ticking clock. He writes, sometimes, but the clock seems to be the main focus of his attention. He takes the clock apart, sometimes, and strews the gears across the floor. He doesn’t put it back together until the warden has to come in and tell him to do so, because the gears are dangerous. 

Normally, when that happens, the warden revokes clock privileges for a couple of days. He throws the clock in the chest of Dream’s stuff and forgets about it, pretending he can’t hear the haunting singing through the lava. It’s loud, so loud, but the warden is good at his job, so he cannot do a single thing. 

The warden prides himself on being a good man. He treats all with compassion, except for maybe those who don’t deserve it. Dream doesn’t deserve it, not in the slightest, so the warden doesn’t feel bad about the conditions that he finds himself providing. Maybe Dream will learn someday, maybe he will find that kids should be kids and should not be under authoritarian control. The warden wonders if Dream has reflected in those books of his, if he’s written out his guilt and then thrown it in the lava that encases him. 

The warden’s name is Aloysius Baltus, but soon after he underwent his teenage years, he learned that the name Aloysius is far too classy. His middle name, Salvatore, is not much better, though he has shortened it to ‘Sam’ and allows people to call him as such. It’s easier to feel closer to people when you have a simple name, something that rolls off the tongue. The warden thinks that power comes in names, and maybe that’s why he chooses to hide his own. 

—

While the warden’s power comes in his name, his class, he notices that Dream’s power comes from his knowledge. It comes from learned experience, from years of reading expressions and fighting and manipulating. 

He’s a master of manipulation by now, his soft smile bearing down on the warden’s very soul. It’s a sad smile, one filled with anguish, but the warden knows better. If he did not, he might’ve had pity, but he doesn’t. 

“I’ve been thinking, you know,” Dream says one day, as the warden enters his cell with his food. 

“Always a bad sign with you.” The warden says, voice dry. 

“No— listen.” Dream begins, and the warden busies himself around the cell as he lets Dream continue to speak. It’s the least he can do, considering how little social time Dream is already getting. The least Aloysius can do is listen to his senseless ramblings. “What goes around comes around.” 

“That’s what they say, alright. Clock,” he points to the clock in the item frame, prompting Dream to turn it the correct way. It’s not necessarily a violation of the rules, the rotated clock, but it’s annoying in a way that the warden can’t quite place. 

Dream obeys, rotating the clock back its original position. The warden hands over his food and sits near him, ready to converse. He’s watching, making sure Dream actually consumes his food. He tries to disguise it with the intent to speak with him, learn more about his mental state, but he knows that Dream is no idiot. He makes a show of eating his potatoes, and the warden scoffs. 

“What goes around does come around. I’m not sure if I actually believed in karma before I ended up here, y’know.” He says once he’s done chewing, eyes trained on the clock like he doesn’t want to look directly at the warden. The warden doesn’t blame him for that, either. He looks off at the clock, too, desperate to be rid of the feeling that he’s falling into some kind of trap. 

“Why’s that?” The warden asks. 

“When you’re on top of the world, you aren’t thinking about the consequences of your actions. You only chase more power until it eventually backfires. Schlatt, Wilbur, and now me, I guess. It’ll happen to Tommy, too, I’m sure. Maybe Tubbo.” His voice escapes him in a breathy sigh, like a balloon finally deflating. The warden doesn’t want to admit that Dream is right, everything he’s saying is one hundred percent true. 

“An interesting notion,” He says, because he’s not about to tell Dream that he’s right. The warden is a man of only so much pride and patience. 

“A correct notion.” Dream says. “That’s why I dethroned George.” 

The warden raises an eyebrow, turning to look at Dream. The warden is not wearing his signature creeper mask, because there is simply no need. Dream will likely die in this institution, and he has to show his face out of legal necessity, so the warden chose to do the same thing. He is not an evil man, the warden, and maybe he doesn’t like to see people go through what Dream is going through. He doesn’t like him, but pain is not an easy thing to watch. 

“What?” He asks. 

“I didn’t want people to hate him like they hate me. I knew— I guess knew isn’t the right word, but I figured the power would eventually get to his head. It always does, right? George doesn’t deserve that.” Dream says, and something about his voice has dropped. 

“So you dethroned him?” Aloysius asks, and he thinks he’s starting to understand Dream just a little bit better than before. It strikes him rather quickly that Dream cares about George, but it’s in a way that he likely doesn’t understand himself. 

“I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do. I’d rather him be mad at me than the whole fucking faction hating his guts.” Dream states lamely. 

The warden feels as though Dream should likely be passionate about this conversation— maybe even emotional. The warden also knows that Dream does not quite understand how to project his emotions in a way that doesn’t include hurting others, so maybe the lack of presented emotions is a good thing.

“Hm.” Is all he says, because although he’s quite interested in the conversation, the warden is still very good at his job. He pauses, though, and decides that nobody needs to know if he decides to ask a couple of extra questions. “Do you care about him that much?” 

“Of course I do, Sam.” Dream says, and the warden raises his arm in a gesture of warning. “Sorry— warden. Of course I care about him.” 

The warden looks down at his hands, and he wonders if George is ever going to visit. He hopes he does— that way Dream can chill out and accept that he’ll likely be here for a very, very long time. 

“I’ll arrange for him to come see you, alright?” 

Dream grins. “You’re the best warden I’ve ever had.” 

—

The warden is a good man. He is good at his job, and he is good to the single prisoner he looks after. 

His job is hard. One cannot get emotionally invested in anybody’s life stories, though sometimes it proves tough to avoid that happening. The warden cannot control what he feels, for the most part, only how he acts. It’s harder, now that he understands, to act as if Dream is not a person. 

He opens the chest in front of him and pulls the paper mache mask from out of it. 

“We all have sins to pay penance for,” he mutters to himself. 

No harm in returning the mask, right?

**Author's Note:**

> phew, what a ride! 
> 
> if you did enjoy this fic, please leave a comment letting me know what you liked about it! kind comments always make my day, and if you have any criticism i would love to hear it as long as it is kept constructive.
> 
> have a wonderful rest of your day, kind reader!


End file.
